


Learning to Excel

by Lillyjk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dom/sub overtones, M/M, Professor Phil Coulson, TA Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2538695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillyjk/pseuds/Lillyjk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint watched as Professor Coulson flipped through the stacks of papers on his desk before finding the right one and pulling it free. Even though the desk looked to be chaos, Coulson must have a method to his madness because there were little tabs and sticky notes scattered strategically among the piles.</p><p> </p><p>Clint had always had a thing for the man's hands, the sure competent movements as he wrote outlines on the chalkboard had left Clint imagining those hands moving over his body just as precisely. Clint thought about the Professor's hands circling his wrists, holding him down and he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud.</p><p> </p><p>“Here it is. Sorry, I'd say I'm usually better organized but that would be a lie.” Coulson looked up at Clint over the top of his glasses. “Hence the need for a new TA now that Maria's gone.”</p><p> </p><p>Clint shifted in his seat. “No problem. I'm, uh, actually, really good at organizing things.  If you can tell me how you want it, I can put it where it needs to go.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Excel

 

Clint watched as Professor Coulson flipped through the stacks of papers on his desk before finding the right one and pulling it free. Even though the desk looked to be chaos, Coulson must have a method to his madness because there were little tabs and sticky notes scattered strategically among the piles.

 

Clint had always had a thing for the man's hands, the sure competent movements as he wrote outlines on the chalkboard had left Clint imagining those hands moving over his body just as precisely. Clint thought about the Professor's hands circling his wrists, holding him down and he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud.

 

“Here it is. Sorry, I'd say I'm usually better organized but that would be a lie.” Coulson looked up at Clint over the top of his glasses. “Hence the need for a new TA now that Maria's gone.”

 

Clint shifted in his seat. “No problem. I'm, uh, actually, really good at organizing things.  If you can tell me how you want it, I can put it where it needs to go.”

 

Coulson nodded. “I remember you from your undergrad, you know. That paper you did on how the romantic relationship between Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was purposefully ignored by mid-century history texts was particularly well-researched. I was surprised you weren't a history major.”

 

Clint blushed. “No, just a minor in history. In fact, your Early American Studies class freshman year is what got me interested. I think I took every class you offered while I was in undergrad. I was only six hours short of having enough for a double major.”

 

Coulson's mouth twisted, “Yes, you and Ms. Romanov were fixtures on the back row.”

 

Yeah, Clint thought, he'd stuck to the back row because he'd been afraid the good Professor would notice his daily Coulson-fueled erections if he sat any closer. He really didn't think Coulson needed to know that though so he tapped his hearing aid. “Believe it or not, this thing is better than a Whisper 2000 and I actually see things more clearly from a distance.”

 

“I see.” Coulson arched an eyebrow at Clint as if to say _I don't see but it's not really important_ and then continued. “Why does an engineering graduate student want to be my TA? Usually people try to stay within their field of study.” He frowned slightly, little lines appearing between his eyes. “In fact, it's strange, I've had lots of out-of-major applications for this position.”

 

And seriously, Professor Coulson's little frowny face should not make Clint think about going to his knees. Was it possible that the man really didn't know that a good seventy percent of the student body had a thing for him? Clint was surprised the crappy campus server hadn't crashed when the position opened up for applications. Clint shifted in his seat again, willing his dick to cooperate.

 

Coulson flipped back through the papers, a print out of Clint's own application, and tapped one long elegant finger on the desk. “I know you did an internship with Dr. May and she was very impressed by your initiative. Any particular reason you aren't staying on with her?”

 

“Well, like I said. I have a passion for history. Plus, sometimes it's nice to get a break from numbers and formulas. Besides, Natasha – Ms. Romanov – wanted a chance at that internship so when this position came open I thought I'd apply.” _And also_ _I've been thinking about sucking your cock for four years now and you don't fuck students but maybe you have a different rule for TAs._

 

“I can understand that, I suppose.” Coulson smiled again, his fingers absently stroking along the length of his navy and gray patterned tie. Clint's mesmerized by the movement, by how those fingers slide along the stretch of fabric. “Ms. Romanov is your girlfriend?”

 

Clint sputtered. “No, no Sir. Just good friends and roommates.”

 

“Oh, I just assumed. None of my business either way, but I always saw you together.” Coulson cleared his throat, his intense eyes locking on Clint's, fingers going still. “You know that if you accept this position, you'd be mine for twenty hours a week.” It's a statement, not a question and Coulson's tone is more serious than his half-smile implies.

 

That's the moment Clint's cock goes completely hard.

 

“Yes, Sir.” He licked his lips. “I've already checked your schedule and since you're doing mostly evening classes it shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“Well, I'd need you outside of class some too, maybe even the occasional weekend. Mainly on campus but I do occasionally work from home for grading and lecture preparation. Would it be a problem for you to spend time at my house? I live over on Forest Heights.” His fingers have resumed their slow stroking over the silk tie.

 

Jesus Christ, so NOT a problem for Clint to be at Coulson's house. Maybe on a lazy Saturday afternoon, when Coulson was dressed in jeans and t-shirts instead of suits and ties. When Coulson could use one of those ties to bind Clint down and slowly stretch him open until Clint's begging for it.

 

What he says is, “No, not a problem at all. I actually live a couple of blocks over on Greenlawn.”

 

He'd maybe googled Coulson's address and driven by his house dozens of times over the last few years. Of course, he's almost wrecked his car that one time he caught Coulson coming back home from a run wearing a ragged Army t-shirt and shorts that showed off well-muscled thighs. Natasha had jerked the wheel at the last minute and Clint had managed to not plow into a parked car because his attention was on sweaty pink-cheeked Coulson doing post-run lunges on his front steps.

 

Coulson nodded, “That's perfect.” He sat back in his chair giving Clint a considering look. “I've interviewed three people for this position already and spent more time than I'd like going through dozens of applications.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Is there anything else you think I should know before we wrap up here?”

 

Clint licked his lips again and this time Professor Coulson noticed, his eyes fixing on Clint's mouth. “Just that I can make myself available to you however, whenever and wherever you want, Professor.” _On my hands and knees, bent over your desk, in your bed._ “I'd really like to work under you.  And, I uh, take direction very well.”

 

Yeah, Clint was 98% sure that he wasn't imagining the faint flush on Professor Coulson's cheeks. He watched, fascinated, as both of Coulson's hands went to the edge of his desk, knuckles going white where he was gripping the curved edge.

 

“Yes,” Coulson finally said. “I'll keep that in mind, Clint.  Taking direction well is a very important quality to have.” He paused a beat. “Very important.  You should hear something from me in the next day or so. I want to get everything...firmed up before class starts back.”

 

Firmed up, Clint swallowed. Everything about this man had kept Clint firmed up for his entire college career.  Even now his cock was hard and throbbing in his jeans.

 

Clint took the hint and got to his feet. “Sure thing. I'll be around all week. You've got all my contact information.” He paused in the doorway, bracing his arm against the wall. “Even if I don't get the job, I want you to know that I learned a lot from you in class. And if you've seen my transcript you can see that I was kind of a screw up as a kid, at least where school was involved.”

 

Coulson nodded. “Your high school transcripts were interesting. You probably wouldn't have been accepted at the university if not for being the archery team's prize recruit.” His lips made that little half smirk, half smile. “But you've clearly embraced college and your grades show it.”

 

Clint smiled and maybe flexed a little bit so that his bicep muscle was clearly outlined by his tight t-shirt. It was only fair considering that at least part of that muscle development was a result of hundreds of jackoff sessions in which Professor Coulson featured prominently. “Professor, I'm all grown up now and I'd really like the chance to show you what I can do.”

 

Coulson was looking at him from over the top of his glasses again and for a minute Clint thought he'd been a little too obvious. Probably Coulson was going to drop his application in the garbage and have the department secretary send him a thanks but no thanks letter. He straightened up, turning to go when Coulson spoke.

 

“You seem like a young man determined to excel in all things.” Coulson waited until Clint was facing him again before he continued. “I think I'd quite enjoy you working under me.” He dropped his gaze to the stacks of papers on his desk. “Email me your class schedule so I know what times are off limits and I'll work something up for you.”

 

Clint grinned. “Yes, Sir. I'll do it as soon as I get home.”

 

“Very well.” Coulson's eyes flicked over him again, a slow sweep from Clint's shoes to the top of his head. “And Clint...” one hand was stroking over his tie again. “Don't make me regret my decision. I don't like to be disappointed.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
